


The Cornish Prisoner

by dandelionpower, mosslover



Category: Poldark - All Media Types, Return to Treasure Island (TV 1996)
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, mild violence, pirate jim, prisoner Ross
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 19:21:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20711204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandelionpower/pseuds/dandelionpower, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosslover/pseuds/mosslover
Summary: Jim claims he doesn't care about the prisoner John Silver's ship is carrying towards Cornwall. But that's not quite true. And when it's time for that prisoner to be traded in, Jim faces a hard decision - one that might cost him everything.





	The Cornish Prisoner

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xenia_che](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenia_che/gifts).

> A very late (we are so sorry!!) SpringFRE fic prize for mysticalbarbariancreation, who requested a pirate Jim darkhawk :) We hope that you like this!

Long John Silver stood at the stern of his ship, surveying the horizon. "It's fitting," Jim thought, as he walked up to him, since the old pirate's face looked just equally stern. "We're getting closer to Saint-Ives," Silver told Jim, not even turning around to look at his second-in-command when he addressed him. At the mention of the Cornish port, Jim's heart dropped. He had thought , or rather hoped, that they would have maybe a few more days. It was wishful thinking, of course. 

"We'll be there by morning,"Silver went on, "Make sure to prepare Poldark for the exchange."

Jim knew that this day would come, but he was not ready. From the beginning, he suspected he never would. "With all due respect, Captain," Jim pointed out, "what garanties us that Warleggan will keep his word and pay us once we deliver the prisoner." 

"I'll make sure he does," Silver said, unfazed. 

"And what if he kills Poldark once he has his hands on him? Can we, in good conscience, give our prisoner to someone who's sole motive is to exact vengeance on him?"

Silver turned around at last and gave the young man a firm pat on the shoulder. The strength in it felt more like a warning than a paternal gesture. "We're pirates, son; not choir boys. I dont give a toss what Warleggan plans to do with Poldark, as long as he pays me beforehand. Good conscience is an obstacle to good business. It's a burden. I'd get rid of it if I were you," he advised Jim. He then waved to dismiss him. "Now go and bring some water and bread to the man. I want him to be fit enough to walk off the ship by himself in the morning."  
"Yes captain," Jim surrendered. Long John Silver loved gold too much to question the ethics of his actions; and Warleggan was ready to spend quite a lot of it to have Ross Poldark in his claws.

"Oi Jim!" Silver hailed him before he could leave. "I hope you listened to me and didn't get too attached."

"Don’t worry about that," Jim muttered as a response, but Silver had good reasons to worry. It was way too late for Jim not to get attached to their dark, fiery and strikingly handsome prisoner. He had not told anybody, though: not Ross, and even less Silver. On board of the Virginialis, Jim was important, but expandable; anybody who sailed in Silver's crew was. Even as second-in-command, he was no exception. 

Jim didn’t share Long John's fondness for money, but that didn’t mean he was immune to its power. At least, he was conscious of all the good money could do to improve his mother's situation. She was a widow, infirm and impoverished, depending on Jim completely to send enough for her to eat and afford the local herborist's remedies. It was in the hope to help her that Jim enrolled in Silver's crew, knowing full well that to earn enough to keep his mother comfortable, he would have to be on the wrong side of the law. 

Jim paid a visit to the cook and was able to fill a bowl with the best of the leftovers from the last meal. Then, he descended below deck to bring it to the prisoner, his heart and throat tight at the idea of the news he had to deliver. As desperate as the situation seemed, a plan had started to sprout into his mind, and with it, the resolve to bring it to fruition. Perhaps there was a way he could help Ross… He had to believe all was not lost. 

The cell door creaked in its rusty hinges as Jim opened it, balancing the food bowl carefully against his chest. The musty air inside the tight space was the first to greet him; then Ross lifted his head, smiling at Jim through the twisting curls that fell in front of his face. That smile alone was enough to steel Jim’s determination to put his budding rescue plan into action; he smiled back, albeit tightly. 

He handed the bowl to Ross and shut the cell door, locking it behind them. It wasn’t strictly necessary; though Ross’ hands were free, one of his legs was attached by a chain to the wall to prevent an escape attempt. Silver liked to be sure of his pay day; it wouldn’t do to have a crafty fish slip from his nets, and Ross Poldark had the reputation of a very slippery fish indeed. 

Not even he could pry apart the strip of metal that circled his ankle with his bare hands, though. 

Not without Jim’s help, that was.

Jim swallowed, shooing away a creeping reminder of what would happen if Silver discovered what Jim was contemplating. He’d seen firsthand what Silver did with those who disobeyed him: he ordered their feet tied and the skin on their chests and back cut open before, the poor person’s arms still free, he’d have them tossed in the sea and take bets as to whether the sharks would find them before they drowned.

Jim would have to be very careful to avoid or that same exact punishment would be coming to him.

“Is anything amiss, Jim?” Ross asked, interrupting Jim’s thoughts through mouthfuls of lukewarm soup. “You seem… troubled.”

Jim looked up, meeting Ross’ amber-hued gaze. Every minute was taking them closer to Cornwall’s shores, and Jim decided it was no use to mince words.

“We are nearly at St. Ives,” he informed Ross in a low voice. “You are to be traded tomorrow morning.”

Ross cursed, wooden spoon clattering as he dropped it back into the bowl. “That’s sooner than I thought.” 

“Silver is in a rush to get hands on the promised reward,” Jim replied wryly. “Warleggan is giving him a handsome amount.”

“It’s good to know that at least I will part George with a lot of money,” Ross said, a shadow of his earlier smile reappearing, and Jim tried not to get too distracted by how appealing those slightly curved lips were. “Though I expect I shall have to part with some rather important things myself, shortly after.”

That was probably all too true. From what Jim had heard of George Warleggan so far, he was a ruthless businessman who didn’t shy away from dirty tactics to get what he wanted. And Ross had properties Warleggan seemed to covet - a prosperous mine, a fertile swath of land. But Jim knew that Warleggan’s underhand scheme to get hold of the captive Ross had another side to it - the long standing animosity between the two men. 

“Do you think Warleggan is capable of harming you?” Jim asked.

Ross snorted. “Not himself, no. George would not want to get his own hands soiled with my blood; he has his men for that. Men who get paid well enough to forget their conscience - if they ever had one - and who relish in the task. I am sure by tomorrow night I will be well acquainted with their fists - or worse.”

Jim bit his lip. It was as he suspected; in George’s power, Ross had every reason to be afraid for his own safety and even his life. 

And that meant that Jim was Ross’ only hope. 

He stayed silent as Ross returned to his meal. As soon as Ross set the empty bowl down with words of thanks, Jim stepped forward to him and lay a hand on Ross’ forearm. Disregarding how exciting it felt to touch Ross’ skin, he plunged into a whispered explanation.

“Listen closely: I will help you escape. It has to be tonight, as soon as we are within sight of land and darkness falls. You said you are a strong swimmer: can you cover a mile or two to the shore?”

Ross’ eyes had gone wide as soon as he caught on to the meaning of Jim’s hurried words. “Y-yes, easily, as long as the current isn’t against me.”

“We’ll have to take that chance,” Jim said. “It’s the only way; I suspect Silver will want to do the exchange as soon as dawn breaks and then be off again. Now, this is how we-”

But Ross interrupted, frowning now as his eyes scanned Jim’s face. “Why are you doing this, Jim?”

“To save your life, Ross,” Jim pointed out. “Why else?”

“And you’d put your own life in danger in order to do so? Silver doesn’t look like a forgiving man.”

“He isn’t,” Jim replied. “But that is for me to worry about.”

Ross kept his eyes on Jim, studying him. There was shrewdness in his gaze, a keen intellect working hard at calculating the best approach. But there was also a sort of softness, a warm glow that made Jim’s stomach flutter. 

“You’ve been nothing but a huge surprise to me, Jim, ever since we’ve met,” Ross said in a hushed voice. “A pleasant one, though I’m sure that need not be said.”

“And I wish our meeting had occurred under different circumstances,” Jim said bitterly. “But that is a vain thought right now. We need to focus on how to secure your freedom.”

Ross nodded, his expression that of iron focus even as he grabbed hold of and squeezed Jim’s hand in gratitude. Jim swallowed his feelings and launched into the details of his plan: there was not a moment to lose. 

***

Darkness finally spread over the endlessly rolling waves of the ocean; the lights of St. Ives were flickering on the horizon. The ship had finally slowed down upon its final approach, and Jim knew it was time.

Silver had not yet retired for the night, likely issuing orders as to where to moor the ship for the night and how best to approach the shore come morning. Though Jim had been tasked with guarding Ross, he knew Silver might relay messages to him or request his presence in the captain’s quarters should he wish to furnish Jim with further details of the exchange with Warleggan.

Though tense as a coil inside, Jim walked through the ship with purpose into his step to avoid looking suspicious and to avoid anyone trying to stop him and speak to him. His heart beat hard and fast in his chest, but he wouldn’t let himself turn back now. He couldn’t let Ross down after getting his hopes up...

Indeed, the Cornishman was at the ready when Jim reached his cell once more. He’d stripped down to his breeches and his hair was pulled back as securely as possible with a strip of leather Jim had given him earlier so that it would stay out of the way as he swam. 

The tamed hair gave Jim a full view of Ross’ handsome face for the first time ever, and Jim found himself at a risk of distracted staring.

But now was not the time to admire the perfect lines of Ross’ features. Jim stepped closer to the prisoner and stuck a key in the lock that secured the chain to the metal cuff around Ross’ ankle. 

“Well, let’s do this, then,” he said, straightening up and handing Ross a green shirt and a worn tricorn hat. “I found some spare sailor clothes, they belonged to the old Jenkins who died at sea two weeks ago. It should help you hide in plain sight.” He tried hard to conceal the doubt in his voice. 

It was a rather risky plan, but it could work. It had to work. If Ross managed to get one deck above, he would then be able to get to the empty space next to the infirmary. There, a cannon once stood. Silver had made some modifications on the ship, removing some cannons from that deck and moving them up to the galley. The cannon was gone, but the trap remained. Nowadays, the cook used it to throw garbage out. Ross was slim enough to slip out through there and jump into the ocean. 

There were sixty crew members on the ship, not including Jim and the captain. Jim hoped against hope that a sixty-fourth would stay unnoticed in the confusion, after dark, on an ill-lit ship. Another advantage was that Silver had captured an unconscious Ross at night and brought him onboard with only the help of two of his men: one of them was Jim, the other was Jenkins. Then, during the journey, Ross had been kept behind a locked, windowless door, only visited by Jim during mealtimes. As a result, the other deckhands had no real idea of what Ross looked like. They would look out for someone wearing a typical redcoat british uniform. At least, Jim was counting on it. He had already taken care of discarding Ross’ recognizable uniform overboard.

“Ready?” he asked, once Ross was properly disguised in the sailor clothes. 

Ross nodded, resolve and tension mixed in his expression. “Yes.” 

There were many ways it could all go wrong, of course, and the image of being thrown over the rails himself, to either drown or be devoured by sharks, if Silver was to discover Jim’s part in the scheme flashed through his mind once more. But one look at Ross pushed it all away again; no matter how ill-advised this attachment they had formed was, he couldn’t sit by and watch Ross be delivered into the hands of a man who meant him nothing but harm. 

And then his breath caught as Ross placed a hand on the side of his face.

“I can never thank you enough for risking all to help me,” Ross said. “If I can ever repay you-”

“You have not escaped yet,” Jim pointed out wryly. “But once you are free, the knowledge that I helped will be all the repayment I need.”

“And what of you? What of your own freedom?” Ross said, surprising Jim further. “Are you going to stay in Silver’s service forever?”

Jim swallowed. The prospect was dreadful, but the urgency of the situation did not give him much time to angst about his own future. He grabbed Ross’ arm, as if to urge him to step out of the reach of the chain now lying at his feet. "Don't worry about me, I’m used to this life. I’ll be fine." 

Ross resisted, refusing to budge. " Are you sure?" Even after four weeks of eating mostly watered-down broth, he was stronger than Jim, which meant that Jim would not have much trouble selling the escape story he had to give to Silver.

Despite Jim's attempts, Ross was still not moving. "I can't leave you here, slaving under him," he whispered in a hurry. "The only difference between your chains and mine is that mine were visible, but yours are just as real, and you deserve better." He freed his arm from the grip and his hand was back on Jim's face, tender but insistent. "Come with me… let's leave together. I know you feel like you have obligations toward your mother's wellbeing, but there are other ways to provide for her. I can find them with you. I can help you build a new life. Anything else would be better than Silver, don't you think?" 

A shudder climbed Jim’s spine like a cold snake. His galloping heartbeat threatened to trample him to death. "I can’t," he muttered, out of reflex. 

The decision should have been easy to make, but it wasn't. Silver had raised Jim since he was fourteen; thought him to sail and earn his gold. He was the closest thing he’s even got to a father figure, albeit not being the best of examples. The Virginialis was Jim's home. Before Ross brought it up, just now, he had never truly considered living another life. 

“Yes you can,” Ross argued. ‘I can’t leave you here. I’m not escaping without you.” 

Confronted with Cornish stubbornness, from nervous Jim was starting to get angry. ‘Don’t be an idiot! I’m sticking my neck out right now to help you go back home and to save you from Warleggan. You have to act now if you want to escape. You’re losing precious time spouting insanities.” He drilled his glare into the brown eyes, but Ross only stared back with an unnerving amount of calm. “And even if I decide to follow you,’ Jim raged on, “What is there on land for me? I have no guarantee you’re not going to abandon me at the first opportunity. Why should I believe your pretty stories? Why should I trust you?” Silver had raised him to be suspicious of everyone. In the world of piracy, one made very few friends.

Without warning, however, Ross leant down to close the height difference between them and put a very deliberate however brief kiss on Jim's mouth. He sealed his lips to his like one seals a contract. "Consider this my solemn promise and a token of my good faith." 

In awe for an instant as brief as the kiss itself, Jim didn’t know how to react. From his touch and confident stare, Ross was giving him a kind of courage he never knew he possessed.

‘You have to punch me in the face," he instructed Ross. 

Taken aback by the sudden request, Ross frowned ‘pardon me?’

“Punch me as hard as you can manage,” Jim insisted. “It has to look real.’ He did his best not to glance at Ross’ strong hands and large knuckles but failed. He gulped. It was going to hurt like a bastard. 

“I can’t do that,” Ross said in a hushed tone. 

Jim enveloped Ross’ right hand with both of his own. ‘What Silver is going to do to me if he discovers I’ve betrayed him is far worse than an uppercut to the jaw. He has to believe you escaped on your own.’ Jim bent Ross’ fingers and curled them into a fist. “Please Ross, for my sake…It’s the least you can do for me.”

Ross shook his head, conflicted and defeated. “So, that means you’re not coming with me?”

Jim didn’t reply. He let go of Ross’ hand and he went to the door. He unlocked it and left it ajar. He could hear the deckhands chat a little further down the lower deck. They were observing a game of dice disputed between the quartermaster and one of the cooks. They guarded the main ladder leading to the upper deck: the most obvious exit. But there was another one by the supply room…. 

Jim walked back to Ross and slipped the keys into his trouser pocket. “Once you’ve delivered the blow to my face, you’ll kill the light,’ he instructed, pointing at the oil lamp on the wall, “and then, once you’re out and have had enough of a head start to get to the upper deck, I’ll call for help. By the time the supposed attack will have happened, you’d have enough time to get to the hatch.” Jim cleared his throat. “Maybe I’ll join you there…at least getting a punch in the face gives me an excuse to head to the infirmary as everybody else is busy searching… but you shouldn’t wait for me. It’s too risky. Get out of here as soon as you can : do what I should have done years ago while you still can.” 

Ross searched Jim’s eyes quickly, dissatisfaction contorting his eyebrows. It made Jim’s heart constrict but at the same time, he was aware more than ever that they had to act now if the plan should succeed.

“Ross,” he hissed. “Now.”

Ross’ mouth was set in a thin line and he looked as if he might protest again, but in the end, he gave a curt nod. Jim squeezed the fist he’d formed of Ross’ fingers, took a step back and braced himself.

Ross took a deep breath through his nostrils and aimed, delivering a hard blow to Jim’s jaw.

Jim staggered under the impact and saw a flood of concern enter into Ross’ eyes. Jim waved it off, keen on ushering him out of the cell. “Go, Ross,” he insisted.

“I’ll see you soon, Jim,” Ross said, laying a steadying hand on Jim’s shoulder, his tone solemn as he peered directly into Jim’s eyes once more. “We will meet again.”

With a hand pressed over the already blossoming bruise on the side of his face, Jim afforded himself a moment of fervent hope. It seemed that Ross’ touch had the power to infuse him with it. “Maybe, Ross Poldark,” he relented. “Now go, or you’ll see us both walk the plank.”

Ross extinguished the lantern and then he was gone, like a shadow melting into deeper pockets of darkness.

Jim stood still in the now quiet room, his jaw throbbing. He had to give Ross time to slip to the appointed hiding place before creating the necessary commotion that would cover his escape. He counted minutes, and instead of bringing relief, each moment filled him with more regret at the thought of Ross being gone. 

Should Jim have gone with him? What if the plan went exactly the way Jim had designed it and Silver still suspected foul play on Jim’s part? Silver never trusted anyone, and not even his second in command was exempt from punishment. Jim could still very much end up as fish fodder on the bottom of the sea…

And maybe… Maybe Ross had been truthful. The life on the wrong side of law had hardened Jim, making him rely on nothing but his own keen senses and self-preservation instincts. And those instincts, those senses were all telling him now that Ross could have been Jim’s one chance at a different, better life…

Jim stood perfectly still as seconds continue to rush past him, agonizing indecision tearing at him.

And then, just as Jim deemed Ross had had more than enough time to get to the old cannon opening, just as he deemed it was the time to start shouting for help, Jim felt something inside him snap.

Instead of yelling out for the guards and starting a ship-wide manhunt, Jim grit his teeth and slipped from the room as noiselessly as a cat in the night. If he hurried… maybe Ross would still be there. Maybe they could escape together after all, get away from this ship and their past and start over anew…

The guards at the end of the corridor were still engrossed in the argument about the game of dice, a fact that normally Jim would be reprimanding them for. Now, he was grateful as the loud voices covered whatever noise he might make as he closed Ross’ cell and stole away. 

He had just made it to the upper deck when he could hear voices from below.”Hawkins! Where is Hawkins? The cap’n be needing him.”

Jim’s blood ran cold and he froze in place at the top of the hidden ladder. He had hoped for more time, but he was clearly not getting his wish. Now he listened, heart beating in his throat; there were some mumbled replies from the guards who, distracted by the dice dispute, were slow to respond. For a second Jim wondered if he should revert back to the original plan, but then he set his teeth indetermination and scrambled to get past the infirmary unseen before the prisoner was discovered missing.

But he was all too aware that he might have just made a fatal mistake.

He reached the infirmary, and to his relief he glimpsed the ship doctor nodding off at his desk. Jim crept past until he was in the empty area where the cannon had once been installed, but it was too dark to see anything or anyone. Jim ventured a whisper: “Ross?”

For a moment all was silent and Jim’s hopes plummeted, convinced he had come too late. Then a shadow moved in the corner by the trap and it was Ross’ voice that answered: “You took your time.”

Jim’s heart nearly fell out. He squeezed into the corner next to Ross and out of sight and was about to open his mouth to tell Ross off for waiting for him when a multitude of voices erupted into shouts somewhere above and the alarm bell sounded. 

“They know we’re gone,” Jim rushed to whisper the obvious. “Out, now!”

Ross took him by the front of the shirt and Jim had just enough time to discern a wild smile on Ross’ face before another kiss was pressed against his lips. Then Ross let him go just as quickly and slithered feet first through the opening, lowering his legs and body through it until he was only suspended by his arms. 

Frantic voices were heard from up above, and then a stampede of running feet. Jim’s hands shook as he gripped the rim of the opening through which Ross had gone out, and then he followed after, hoping he’d not land on top of Ross or make too big a splash.

The sea was cold here around Cornwall’s coast - a right shock to Jim’s body as he plunged into the waves. He surfaced, shaking back his hair and searching frantically around for Ross. A gentle breeze made the sea swell in lazy, rolling waves, and as one passed Jim by, Ross’ head emerged.

“Jim.” He was still grinning like a madman. “You did it.”

“We’re not safe yet,” Jim felt obliged to point out, but he couldn’t help mirror Ross’s smile for a second. “We need to keep under water as much as possible until we get clear of the ship.”

“This way,” Ross said. “There are cliffs that jut out into the sea, a mile or so from here. It’s harder for boats to navigate there, so we can hide among them till morning.”

Jim nodded, and just as he took a breath to slip back under the surface of the sea, a booming, raging voice was heard from above. 

“Lower the boats! If they’re not on the ship, I want every inch of the coast searched!”

To say that Silver was mad was an understatement. But Jim had committed the deed now and all he could do was try and escape the punishment.

He dived under the water and swam for his life.

Ross kept ahead of him and at times it was hard to see him in the complete darkness of the night. They stayed above as little as possible, and once the rowboats were out and searching, they had to be wary of making much noise as well. One ship rowed a hundred feet past them, but it was making for a closer stretch of the shore; Jim could hear the sound of the men’s voices carry over the water.

“If Hawkins is found, I’ll quarter him myself for getting me outta my bunk when I’m off my shift,” one of the men proclaimed loudly. “Bloody bastard, Silver’s in an apoplexy.”

“Shut your mouth, Bosworth, with the racket you’re making an elephant could swim past ya and ye wouldn’t know it…”

“What be an elephant doing in Cornwall? Barking mad, you are…”

Some of Silver’s men were not the brightest.

It was no longer Jim’s problem anymore, though; indeed now it served to their advantage.

Eventually the Virginialis grew smaller and smaller behind them until it became just a small cluster of lights in the distance. The cliffs Ross had spoken of loomed black and tall against the shore ahead. By the time they reached them, Jim was out of breath and chilled through, all of his muscles aching from exertion. Ross swam past the area where the sea swirled treacherously around the rocks, and then cut through to a calmer stretch where they could hang on to the rugged face of the cliffs for a while, partially hidden from sight. 

“Let’s take a little rest,” Ross said as he treaded water, holding on to the cliff. “I don’t think any of the rowboats were headed this way.”

“Not yet,” Jim replied. “But Silver won’t give up easily.”

“I wouldn’t think so,” Ross said. “No, we’ll continue shortly; we’ll swim past the beach on this side of the cliffs and climb up the slope on its other side,” he pointed at a tall bank in the distance that Jim could barely make out in the dark. “From there, we will continue to my house.”

“Isn’t that the most obvious place where anyone might look for you?” Jim said doubtfully.

“Yes, but Silver doesn’t yet know where I live. And by the time he figures it out and he or Warleggan get there, we will have left Nampara as well.”

Jim could only hope so. He was grateful that Ross had a plan now that they had escaped the ship, because he knew nothing of these coasts and the lands beyond them. His old instincts protested at being at Ross’ mercy, but something deeper told Jim he could trust Ross.

He scanned the empty sea around them and when he turned back to Ross, he found the Cornishman’s gaze fixed on the bruise on Jim’s jawline.  
“I suppose I didn’t have to punch you after all,” Ross commented wryly. “Does it hurt much?”

Jim grinned. “As much as expected. And much less than any punishment from Silver would have.”

“You served under that cruel man for many years,” Ross said somberly. “Now you can make your own life.”

“I’m not sure what that should be yet,” Jim said. 

“Being free is a start,” Ross replied. “And you are not alone, don’t forget that. I meant it when I said that you can depend on my assistance; besides, I owe you much for risking all to save me from Warleggan.”

“No, Ross, there is no debt between us. We helped each other in turn.” Jim shifted closer, ignoring for a moment how cold he felt in the cold seawater. Hanging on with just one hand, he reached out and traced Ross’ lips with the tip of his thumb. “That kiss earlier, did you mean that too?”

In answer, Ross trapped Jim’s fingers in his and kissed them, and then Jim’s mouth once more. For a moment, Jim forgot everything: the chaotic escape, the searching rowboats, Silver’s boiling wrath. Right now there was only Ross, and Jim kissed him back with all he had.

Then they broke apart and swam further on. Up ahead, the safety of Cornwall’s shores beckoned, and it held promise of the things Jim hadn’t fathomed even a few hours ago that he could gain: freedom, a new life, and the heart of an extraordinary man.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let us know what you thought ;)


End file.
